


I Escape Into Your Escape

by orbiting_saturn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 02:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbiting_saturn/pseuds/orbiting_saturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thinks the worst thing Eve has done to him is let him maintain his free will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Escape Into Your Escape

**Author's Note:**

> This story assumes that Dean didn't poison himself with the phoenix ash and became a Jefferson Starship. Title is taken from the song "Mother" by Tori Amos.

It's been three long days since he was changed and Dean thinks the worst thing Eve has done to him is let him maintain his free will. He remembers how Lenore described Eve's call to her children, how it was impossible to resist. Eve doesn't need to call him to her because he is with her always. There's no call for her to whisper her wishes in his head because she can simply lean over and breathe her words into his ear. There are those who serve her willingly and there are those that she compels to follow. Dean is special. He's exempt. "Consider it my gift to you," Eve told him that first night. "I know how you value your autonomy. Do you see now, what a loving mother I am?"

For three days, Eve has kept him with her. She has been gracious and patient. She smiles her sweet smile and allows Dean his outbursts. Though he's stronger than he's ever been, with the conjoined powers of a vampire, wraith and shifter, any blow Dean throws at Eve glances right off.

As if being held captive weren't galling enough, Dean is slowly losing his mind over the urge to feed. Even the itchy instinct to shift forms can't compare to the cravings for blood and brains.

"It can't be helped, I'm afraid," Eve told him bluntly, but gently the first time Dean broke into sobbing tears and collapsed to his knees. "Even I can't quell the needs of your new form."

When Eve cupped Dean's cheek so, _so_ lovingly, he didn't have it in him resist the comfort. Dean had tipped forward, pressed his leaking eyes into her white skirt and clung tightly. "Change me back, please. _Please_ , Eve."

"I will, baby," Eve promised as she stroked her slim, little girl fingers through his hair. "As soon as Sam and Castiel bring Crowley to me, I'll change you right back. This will all just be a bad dream."

That could have been days or hours ago, Dean isn't sure. His entire concept of time has been burnt away, he's become nothing but this pulsing need, thrumming all through his body. His fangs keep dropping, his skewer keeps descending and any second now he's gonna shift into Brett Michaels because the TV is playing a marathon of Rock of Love. If that happens to him, Dean's gonna have to come up with some really clever way to decapitate himself. Dean had it all _wrong_. Even Jefferson Starship didn't suck this bad.

For the first time since this nightmare began, Eve has left him alone. Since she left him on the cushy leather sofa in the VIP room of a deserted strip club, Dean has vacillated between relief and despair at his new solitude. Dean wants to blame Eve's powers for the nagging desperation to be returned to her company, but if he's being honest, he thinks maybe he just doesn't want to suffer this alone.

Just when Dean's sure he won't be able to stand another second in the empty room, Eve swings open the frosted glass door and skips into the room. She's wearing her bloodstained dress and that quiet smile that promises secrets and unbelievable horrors. When her eyes fall on Dean, the smile widens with this _something_ that feels like genuine affection. He'd like to deny it, but _God_ he wants her attention. More than blood. More than anything.

"I have a present for you, baby," Eve tells him, dancing lightly around the glass coffee table on bare feet. She doesn't wait for an invitation before sliding sideways into his lap. Before he can feign a complaint, Eve's slender arm is already curving around his shoulder, her fingers skimming into the short hair on the back of his neck.

Eve's vessel is small and spritely, but sultry enough that Dean's surprised the girl was a virgin. He wonders if it's only Eve's presence that makes this slight, narrow-hipped body seem so sensual or if it's something that comes from the bones and marrow. Maybe this girl had left blue-balled boys panting in her wake. She reminds him of Sam's high school girlfriend when they'd stopped for a few months in some small Wisconsin town. Dean had wanted to fuck the girl desperately, but he was a good brother and kept his hands to himself. His hands aren't listening to his brain right now, one curved around a bare calf, the other nestled close in the slight dip of Eve's waist.

Dean's train of thought gets derailed when Eve uses her free hand to pull the dark curtain of hair away from her neck. Close as they are, Dean can smell her. The scent of flowers and dirt clings to her skin, but beneath it all, the meaty, richness of blood. Hot, slow-pumping blood that wasn't there before.

"You don't have to feel guilty, Dean," Eve tells him in that hypnotist way of hers.

Dean's fangs have already descended, punching through his gums with a mild sting. His face is already so close, nuzzling into the slim line of Eve's pale neck. It's warm there, fresh. It isn't _her_ blood. She stole it from someone else to give to him, because she knew he'd never do it himself. And Dean wants to feel guilty, despite her words. _Does_ feel guilty, just not enough to stop himself.

"I'm giving this to you, honey," Eve tells him, her voice dropped to a whisper. There's a note of concern. "Take it."

Dean's fangs pierce her skin before she's done speaking, a hot flood to fill his mouth and roll sweetly over his tongue. A groan of pure bliss punches out of him, his arms lock tight around Eve and drag her closer, press her into the bent curve of his chest. Even second-hand and flowing through dead veins, the blood is heaven, sliding down his throat like it wants to be there, wiping away the aching agony that's ridden him for days. His body soaks it up, claims it and keeps it, makes him moan his pleasure around each sticky mouthful.

Eve lets him take every drop, encourages him to drain her with sweet caresses and whispered endearments. And when it's over she sighs as he laps at the quickly healing wound he left behind.

Dean leans back with a sigh of his own, feeling drugged and languid. His eyes are closed, but he can feel Eve's gaze on him while the blood seeps into him. It's like nothing he's ever felt, both mellow and exciting at the same time.

"Feel better?" Eve asks, grazing lightly over his cheekbone, but neither of them need him to answer.

Eve shifts in his lap and it's not until then that Dean realizes that he's rock hard, blood-heavy cock trapped in his jeans and beneath the supple give of Eve's thighs. Dean's eyes slam open and dance shamefully away from Eve's face.

"None of that now," Eve admonishes with humor coloring her voice. She cups his cheeks in her hands and urges his gaze back to hers, dark eyes under dark brows, pink lips so stark against her pale face. "This is part of your nature too," she adds and rolls her hips against his hardness for emphasis.

In one fluid move, Eve shifts her position so she's straddling him. Her arms go around Dean's shoulders to hold him loosely as she leans in and rocks against him. The warmth of her bleeds through the fabric of his jeans, makes his dick twitch and pulse beneath her. Ducking her head, dark hair falling around their faces, Eve rubs her lips over Dean's. She sucks in his lower lip, so gently and too intimately. His mouth has fallen open and Dean can't help how he pants heavily. Eve's tongue dips inside, between his teeth to slide over his, just briefly before she pulls back to hum against lips. "Mmm, _yummy_."

Vibrating now under the force of a new need, Dean's clenches his hands into fists and screws them down against the cushion beneath him. His skin squeaks and burns against the leather. Something close to a whimper spills out of him, but Eve is there to soothe and calm him. Her hands skim his arms, smooth down his chest, her forehead rests against his. "Shhhh, baby," she murmurs into the stubble-rough skin of his cheek. "Let me take care of you."

Eve's nimble little hands squeeze down between them, unbuttons the fly of his jeans, and one snakes in to cup him. Dean moans and squeezes his eyelids closed, trying so hard not to participate, but neither is he fighting her. "Ooo, who's a _big_ boy," Eve teases while giving his cock a firm squeeze.

Dean growls at that. He might not be able to say 'no' to this, but he certainly doesn't want to be patronized while it's happening. Eve chuckles lightly at Dean's fierce reaction and withdraws her hand. Dean bites back a whine at the loss of pressure, but then her hands are at his waistband. She rises up on her knees and Dean takes that as his cue to lift up while she slides his pants and boxers down to his upper thighs. It's just enough to free Dean's aching prick, which jumps and leaks from this newfound freedom.

Eve doesn't waste their time with foreplay, just reaches under her skirt and rips her own panties off. The fabric tears with a rough grating sound. She takes him in hand, slides the head of his dick through the wet folds of her pussy and sinks down. There's just the slightest nudge of resistance, but Eve's momentum doesn't falter until he's fully seated, in so deep he can feel the sweet curve of her ass against his balls.

She's so slick, so _tight_ , fluttering and twitching all around his length and her sigh hiccups a little. It's over for Dean then, feeling the way she's clamped and moist on his needy cock. He grabs at one hip, flattens his other hand on her back and turns them until he has her pressed against the couch. Eve raises her knees, tightens them around his torso and just lets him fuck her.

Dean isn't gentle. He buries his face in her neck and slams forward so furiously that their skin smacks loudly. Eve starts to open up under each thrust, becomes more pliable and less vice-like. He can smell just the faintest hint of blood along with the musky scent of her.

Eve has her hands laid easily over Dean's neck and shoulder, not gripping, just anchoring him to her while he ruts like a mad dog between her sweet teenaged thighs. It's not the same for him, Dean has shoved his hands under her skirt, is clinging so urgently to the swell of her ass that his nails are cutting the skin. He lets go and slides his hands up her thigh, pushes them further back to tilt her up so he's deeper still.

So close to what he needs, so close to coming and defiling the virgin-shell of a dead girl, Dean punishes this monster-mother with every brutal thrust. And she lets him do it. Eve lays docilely beneath his bulk, just barely hitching up to meet him on each bruising collision.

A wavering sigh washes over Dean's ear when Eve comes, her body trembles and her cunt flutters all around him, almost delicately. It ends him right there. Dean finishes violently, shoving in deep, twisting his hips to savor her insides while he pumps her full. He pulses and pulses, his come slicking her further until it's seeping out. And when there's just nothing left and every tightened muscle has finished twitching, Dean collapses on top of her.

That's when Eve takes control again, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him soft and inside. Her arms hold him tight, one hand on the back of his head. "Do you see now," she asks softly in his ear, "what a loving mother I am?"


End file.
